Someone to Save You
by mrsProbie
Summary: Hermione finds herself thrown into the 1970s, and until she can find a way to repair what remains of the Time Turners that brought her there, she's staying. She finds friendship in an adolescent Severus Snape- their attachment blossoms in their sixth year and beyond, but what happens when she has to leave for her own time? Find out eventually! Not your average time travel HGSS fic.
1. Accident

**A/N: Written for the Multi Chap Boot Camp. I've never actually finished a multi-chapter story before (at least, not finished anywhere outside of my head), so hopefully this will force me to get my ass into gear and actually write some stuff down. **_**Also why am I doing so many challenges and boot camps these make my head hurt I am not this organized oh my mathematics and science above this is miserable.**_** Kidding, of course. It's all fun. :) **

_Prompt 36: Accident_

Hermione Granger's eyes fluttered open and she jumped up from her place on the floor, ready to return to the battle, only to find herself in a wholly different place than she last remembered. She had been in the Department of Mysteries, in the midst of a duel, and this... was not the Department of Mysteries, at least not the way she remembered it. It was the same large hall, but eerily silent. The tank Ron had been near had disappeared, as had the redhead himself. All that remained of the rack of Time-Turners she had been hiding behind was...

Scattered sand, shards of glass, and the metal frames of the devices. They'd fallen and broken. She was entirely certain that she'd traveled through time again, albeit this time accidentally.

Keeping calm, she reminded herself that she could've gone back as short a time as several hours and would simply have to wait it out, but that she wouldn't be able to figure it out unless she took deep breaths and remained cautiously analytical. _I can't go forward in time; they don't work that way_- she glanced around her feet- _and none of these are in working condition at this point, regardless._ She had no experience repairing Time-Turners, and since there didn't appear to be any within the Department walls of this time, she wasn't sure if the technology had actually been invented yet.

Just in case, she shrunk the entire pile of Time-Turner remains, summoned a bag for them, and shoved them in her right pocket, then set about searching for the exit.

—

"Where's Hermione?"

"Last I saw she was over by the rack of- oh, no!"

"The rack of what?"

"The rack of Time-Turners."

"Oh God, no."

—

"Seventeen more deaths in Little Hangleton!" cried a man hawking newspapers in the Ministry lobby. Hermione dug into her left pocket, vaguely remembering jamming a few Galleons in that morning, but thought better of buying it for the sole purpose of finding out the date. The news would be everywhere, she wasn't worried about that, and she could always momentarily sacrifice her dignity to ask someone the exact date.

"Excuse me, sir," she said shyly, stepping towards a man in a scarlet cloak staring absentmindedly at a nearby wall, "but do you happen to know today's date?"

Her question seemed to bring him out of his trance, and he looked at her nervously. "The twenty-seventh of August, miss." His eyes shifted about the room as though searching for someone. "Now go run off and play, or something."

_I'm not a simple child, I'm sixteen years old, and I'm Hermione bloody Granger_. But she let the comment slide and mentally chastised herself for using such language.

—

"I'm not talking to you," Lily huffed. She attempted to close the door right in Severus's face, but he jammed his foot in to stop it. "I'm _serious_, Sev- Severus," she corrected herself, not allowing herself to use the nickname. "It isn't up for discussion, and no apologizing is going to fix it," she continued ranting, attempting to kick his foot out of the way so she could slam the door properly.

"Your mother said you've been crying," Severus said quietly, smoothing back his hair (he couldn't help but notice how long it had gotten- it wasn't quite of a feminine length yet, but _Merlin, I need it cut_, he thought). "That doesn't seem to me like you're doing all right. I want to help."

"You aren't a part of the solution," she said coldly, "you're a part of the problem. And of course I'm crying," she added, snippy. "My best bloody friend- well, the boy I _thought_ was my best friend- was a complete and utter arse to me several weeks ago. You used practically a racial slur!" While technically true, he felt his case was not being well argued here, although he was rendered incapable of bringing this up due to the fact that his head was still spinning thanks to her unusually harsh language. "Regardless, leave!"

And with that, she took advantage of his slightly dazed state to kick his foot out of her bedroom door frame, slam the door shut, and lock it with a click. Rather than using a simple _Alohamora_ to get in and continue to try to talk to her, Severus thought it best to wander downstairs, out the door, and back home, with naught but a wave as he passed Mrs. Evans, who apparently had not the slightest idea how serious her daughter's feud with this boy was.

—

"My, my, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, peering over those same half-moon glasses at the girl, "that is quite a tale you tell. I am trusting by nature, but do you have any proof of what you say?"

By this point, he'd filled her in on the full date- 27 August 1975- and she scraped my mind for any piece of knowledge Dumbledore would've gleaned by this point. "Erm, well, Tom Marvolo Riddle is... responsible. When rearranged his full name renders the phrase 'I am Lord Voldemort,' introducing the name under which he's been wreaking havoc for years now. You hired Rubeus Hagrid as a groundskeeper after he was expelled from Hogwarts because he allegedly was responsible for the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. Sirius Black-" she had been about to say that Sirius Black was the Potters' secret-keeper, but caught herself in time (barely); that hadn't happened yet, of course. "Er, Sirius Black has been living with the Potters this summer because his own family doesn't want him at Grimmauld Place, and he feels just as strongly against staying there."

Dumbledore moved to rest his elbows on his desk. "All of that is true, but you may simply be incredibly observant, or you may simply know the right people who have told you the right stories. While I'm certainly inclined to believe you," he hastened to add, "I must ask that you tell me something which only I would know."

"Sir," she nearly spat, frustrated beyond belief, "I know I told you that my friends and I are close to you in my time, but there aren't many things I can tell you that can't have been gathered elsewhere."

He leaned back now, dug through an open drawer, and popped a lemon drop into his mouth. "So rude of me- would you like one as well?" Although the gesture calmed Hermione down slightly, having provided a sense of normalcy in this ridiculous situation, she declined. "Your loss, I assure you."

She barely repressed an eye roll. So like him to behave this way. "I'll be fine, I'm sure."

"I suppose I will have to trust your version of events, Miss Granger." His eyes resumed their natural twinkling. "I understand you would like to continue your education at Hogwarts until such time as you are able to return to your own time?"

"That would be… preferable to wandering about, yes."

"The school year begins in four days, Miss Granger," Dumbledore provided. "It would be prudent for you to acquire appropriate clothing and supplies in the meantime. I recall you are a Muggleborn, so you wouldn't have a family vault at Gringotts- I don't assume you brought any substantial amount of currency with you to your battle at the Ministry? Of course not," he continued when she shook her head. "You'll be pleased to hear that Hogwarts provides a stipend for qualifying students. I will file the proper paperwork this evening, and tomorrow I will provide you with your funds."

Hermione's brows lifted. "Th- thank you, sir!"

Dumbledore gave a small smile. "There is no reason to thank me, Miss Granger. It is Hogwarts's duty to ensure each student will have access to a quality education, no matter his or her financial situation. As long as your grades hold up, you will continue to receive the stipend." He paused before continuing. "You said that in your time you were sorted into Gryffindor, yes?" She nodded. _Well, barely._ Hermione remembered vividly her Sorting: she had had to beg the Hat to place her in the house of the illustrious Albus Dumbledore. It had very nearly commanded she go to Ravenclaw. "To be certain, I will allow the Hat another chance with you."

She cringed internally, but of course agreed. What if it _did_ place her in Ravenclaw this time, though? Hermione _adored_ being a Gryffindor; people came to each other for help instead of stabbing each other in the back for top marks as she'd heard was a common occurrence in Ravenclaw.

Her worries were quickly assuaged, however. Dumbledore pulled the Hat from its shelf, and the moment it was placed on her head it gave its typical roar: "GRYFFINDOR!" There was no dialogue as during her first-year sorting; her first time had taken ages, and there had been much arguing with the Hat over her intellectualism versus my bravery. Had she really changed so much since then?

It was something to ponder as she made her way to the Gryffindor tower. Dumbledore had a House Elf prepare a bed in what would, in several days, be the sixth year Gryffindor girls' dormitory, and she wandered up, too lost in thought to manage to be righteous regarding the use of House Elf labor.

—

"Severus!" The boy flinched. He hated hearing his name come from that man. Only two more years of school, and then he could take my mother far away from the miserable- "Get down here!"

"Coming, Father." He rushed down the stairs. If he took too long, Mother would pay for it, not Severus, and he wasn't willing to do that to her. He hadn't been since childhood.

He greeted the boy with a grunt from his position on the couch (feet on the coffee table, beer bottle in hand, cigarette hanging from his lips). Only after removing the cigarette from his mouth to flick the excess ash into a nearby ashtray did he actually speak. "You got your shit together for school?"

Severus nodded promptly. "Yes, sir."

"Good. You're a clever boy, but sometimes I wonder if you gotta lick of common sense." _I have plenty of common sense, you miserable_- "Must've got that from your mum." _Don't talk about Mother that way._ There were always things Severus wanted to say but couldn't. It would only make her life even more hellish once he was away to Hogwarts.

—

Shopping had gone well; Dumbledore had given Hermione her allowance, and he sent a young Minerva McGonagall to accompany/supervise the girl in Hosgmeade. They'd have gone to Diagon Alley for the greater selection, but they had decided it was best for as few questions as possible to be asked about Hermione before her introduction to the students of Hogwarts. McGonagall had been told of Hermione's situation, of course, and had agreed to supervise her immediately.

Hermione was a little surprised, really. The McGonagall she knew, although of course absolutely trusting of Dumbledore's word, would've asked questions, would've demanded answers, rather than simply obeying his orders. The remaining youthfulness in her face, startling after having known a much older version of the woman, reminded Hermione that she was in a different time, a time before the Second War. Perhaps McGonagall simply didn't have a reason to be on her toes yet. Yet.

Voldemort, at this point, was thriving, but only locally. Much like the Italian Mafia in America, he was a successful terrorist with many alternative methods of making money, but his power was limited to the areas in which he had an organized presence. Although he was a terror where such a presence existed, a complete terror, he posed no serious threat to the majority of British wizards. (So far, Hermione couldn't help but intone, knowing what she knew about his exponential growth in membership over the next year or so.)


	2. Suspicion

**A/N: Okay, so here this goes. Again, I've never even thought of writing something as long as fifty chapters, so this ought to be an interesting experience. I do have some ideas of where I want this story to go, so it'll just be a matter of making them fit the frame.**

_Prompt 5: Suspicion_

–

From all the stories Hermione had heard Sirius and Professor Lupin telling Harry about James Potter, she'd expected him to be a somewhat likable boy. Unfortunately, she had been mistaken. Potter was an absolute bully- school had only been in session one day, and already she quite loathed the apparent King of Gryffindor. The only girl in her house who seemed to share her opinion was Lily Evans, who Hermione also rather disliked, but for a slightly different reason: she wasn't a bully, per se, but rather snooty. Standoffish. Hermione couldn't fault her, of course- her behavior was often similar- but it did discourage Hermione from attempting to forge some sort of friendship.

All in all, Hermione was finding herself disappointed with the past incarnations of Harry's parents. She had heard only the glamorized versions from the two older men, she supposed, the stories that glossed over any true faults, faults that couldn't be joked about comfortably. It was very respectful, she supposed further, for them not to speak ill of the dead.

Speaking of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, she was slightly less disappointed in their behavior. Sirius was, as she had expected, an absolute flirt, but he wasn't an outright skirt-chasing madman (_yet,_ she reminded herself; he was only sixteen, so he still had time to develop that behavior). Remus, too, was flirtatious, but only slightly, and he was still rather awkward about it. She had mentioned several books over dinner, and he had made a small joke regarding the more, ahem, _sensual_ scenes depicted in one of the novels, causing Hermione to blush a bit. She'd forgotten about that, otherwise she wouldn't have mentioned it.

She was pretending to have attended Beauxbatons and was finding the facade simple to uphold; she had gone to France on holiday multiple times with her family and spoke no small bit of their language, and really her nationality was all anyone cared about. Everybody asked her if she had seen the Eiffel Tower, or if French boys really were more romantic or well-versed in the art of courting than their British equivalents, or how to say this curse word or that profanity in French- nobody seemed to care about her education or any possible differences between the curriculum. On the one hand, Hermione was disappointed she was missing out on sharing the elaborate backstory she had constructed, but on the other, she was delighted she wouldn't have to bother with remembering the details from one telling to the next.

She had to take delight in such relatively small victories: her plight concerning the repair of her Time-Turner was not going well at all. As she had suspected when she had first arrived in the Department of Mysteries of the time, the technology to facilitate the repair of the damned thing simply didn't exist yet, and Hermione just wasn't well-versed enough in the field in the future to be able to assist Dumbledore in developing a remedy.

In short, it appeared that Hermione Granger was stuck.

–

"Please go get the ingredients."

Hermione was not about to let herself be downgraded to a mere assistant, considered incapable without being given a chance to prove herself- and maybe that's all she wanted: a fair chance to prove herself to the great Severus Snape, even if he _was_ still an angsty teenager stuck in class. "If you plan on brewing the entire potion yourself, I do wish you'd reconsider," she said carefully. "I had an amazing potions master in past school years; I promise I'm fairly capable."

"Please go get the ingredients," Severus repeated blankly. "I'll prep the cauldron and clean the table."

"Are you being agreeable?"

He snapped and practically slammed the rag he was using into the work table. "If that will make you go get the damn ingredients," he growled, "then yes- you can help brew. But you'd better not mess this up," he added darkly.

In the supply closet, Hermione painstakingly measured their ingredients onto the sheet of wax paper provided (in stark contrast to the droves of other students simply dumping piles of ingredients to be sorted and measured during the actual brewing, a silly and dangerous feat in her opinion) and gingerly transported their supplies back to the shared work area. Severus seemed happy she had taken her time to start the brewing off right and passed a familiar approving eye over her measurements, complete with a tight smile she was sure she'd never seen before. Hermione almost couldn't help but beam as the suspicion faded from his eyes.

Thirty-three and a third of a minute later, the pair had a near perfectly brewed headache relieving potion (it would have been perfect had there not been inconsistency in their method of retrieving juice from the darker beans- he pressed while she sliced, and the indiscretion appeared to have confused the other ingredients) as well as a burgeoning new friendship- or, if not quite that, a comfortable respect for each other.

"What do you have next?" Hermione asked as they wiped down the preparation area once again, causing Slughorn to send yet another round of five points apiece to their respective Houses.

"Oh, er, History of Magic," Severus replied a bit awkwardly, seemingly unused to the idea of another student- particularly one of the female variety- taking any genuine interest in his whereabouts or willing herself to be around him. "And yourself?"

"I think I have that, too!" Hermione said excitedly, diving into her bag to rifle for her schedule to double check. Remus was all right, but Severus was infinitely more interesting to talk to- not having yet developed quite as impregnable a wall keeping out the world, he was easier than his future self to engage in conversation if one mentioned the proper topics, and he was as full of wit as he was of knowledge. Remus studied and memorized the way Hermione did, while Severus simply understood things. He knew concepts, not facts, and it was his ability to succinctly discuss these concepts that she found so appealing.

Sure enough, she had History of Magic with him the next period; she told him so and asked if he would mind leading the way for her. He froze for a moment, and she regretted asking when she remembered the situation: she had gathered that the other Slytherins were already less than fond of the boy and knew that if he were to be seen with a Gryffindor like her, it would only aggravate their dislike of him.

"I, er..." As suddenly expected, he seemed apprehensive.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. If you'd rather walk alone, or you're walking with someone else..." she trailed off listlessly, unsure of how to ensure that he didn't feel obliged to take her (that she wouldn't take offense were he not to do so) without making it obvious that she was doing so with his bullying in mind. Although she was generally clever enough not to offend, tact had never been her absolute strongest suit.

"Er, no, it's fine," he said after a moment, taking her dirty rag, balling it up with his, and pitching it into the cleaning bin under their work table. "I'll show you the way,' he said, scratching behind his ear, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Are you sure?" Hermione started as they gathered their things. "Because if-"

"It's fine," he said shortly. "Now come on before I change my mind." She looked up at him through squinted eyes- he was taller than she'd realized, and he rather towered over her, just as in her past, his future- only laughing when he gave a small smile to show he had, indeed, been only joking.

The walk to class was far too short for either party, although what little time they had to speak was used fully, discussing the the differing methods of potion preparation they had employed. He pointed out that she only ever did as she was taught, with little regard for personal experimentation, and it set her thinking... she was far enough into her own world that she paid little attention to Professor Binns's (yes, he was already dead) lecture for once.

After class, on their way to dinner in the Great Hall, they walked slowly. She had few people to meet at the Gryffindor table, and he had no one to meet at all at the Slytherin equivalent, so as long as they felt they'd be able to make it in time to scarf down a meal, they weren't concerned about time for the first time since the morning.

"Do you think I'm... formulaic?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know you that well." Severus's brows furrowed. "And I don't think I understand the question all that well, either," he admitted after a pause.

"Well, I study things," Hermione began, "and I memorize them. Wand movements, spell names, history, potions ingredient lists... all of it, memorized. It's exhausting. And what you said before about potions, about how I go by the book instead of even thinking to experiment-"

"I didn't mean to rile you up so," Severus insisted, laughing a bit at her frustration. "I think it's amazing that you have such a memory and admirable that you follow directions so well. If that makes you formulaic, then I suppose that's an admirable trait," he added to calm her down. "Besides," he continued, "I'd wager that you have a deeper understanding of those things than you realize. Things just make sense, don't they?" Hermione nodded. "Of course _Aguamenti_ creates a stream of water; why wouldn't it? It couldn't do anything else, right?" Again, she nodded. "That's you picking up etymology," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You know what you're doing, I promise you. You just don't know you know, I guess." He paused. "That didn't make a word of sense."

"No," Hermione argued, grinning to herself, "it did make sense. It absolutely did."


	3. Threat

**A/N: I'm back! I'm just straight pooping these chapters out! In case you're wondering why Hermione's new surname is Abagnale, it's because Dumbledore decided that even if she kept her first name, she would do well to make **_**some**_** effort to hide her identity, and I recently saw the musical version of **_**Catch Me if You Can**_** (fantastic, by the way).**

_Prompt 47: Threat_

_Thump. _Hermione's eyes shot up from her book to meet those of Severus. "What was that?" she whispered. He shook his head and put a finger to his lips, motioning for her to say nothing more while he checked.

They were in the Room of Requirement, and they were- or, at least, they had thought they were- alone. It had become their place to sit, read, and discuss, a haven: Severus could get away from the bullying natures of both the Marauders and his fellow Slytherins, and Hermione could avoid the overbearing "friendliness" of her housemates. (Gryffindors, she had noticed, tended to be ridiculously sociable, and some didn't seem capable of grasping that she, well, wasn't.)

Severus crept from his armchair to the bookshelf, where he thought the hump had come from. It didn't make sense, but... perhaps... _aha!_ There was parchment- a single sheet- and a quill set, complete with a bottle of ink (that must have been the thump), that hadn't been present before. He read the writing on the sheet, and his confusion returned with vigor. Walking to hand it to Hermione, who was lounging on a small sofa, he asked, "Did you write this?" Surely she had; she'd signed it. But it made no sense.

Hermione raised a brow, so he handed it over. She read it, and her eyes widened. She read it again, and again. He saw her eyes scan the page- it didn't take long, there was so little written- at least thrice. Then she shoved it into the inner pocket of her robes and set about gathering her things. "I'm sorry, but I have to go," she said roughly, as though her voice were ready to break.

"Hermione, what-"

"Please don't ask," Hermione interrupted, "because I have _no_ earthly idea what's going no." And with that, she bustled out of the Room, leaving him behind, alone in their fort of books and cushions and parchment and quills.

Severus was very confused, and he was not happy, for he was not terribly used to being confused. He mentally went over the contents of the note one more time:

_12/7/96_

_Hermione Granger,_

_All will be well. _

_Yours and yourself,_

_Hermione Abagnale_

He knew Hermione Abagnale, of course- that was the girl who had just left. But who was Hermione Granger? And what did "yours and yourself" mean? And it was dated so strangely, a date either far into the future or even further into the past.

He would think on it all night- through his shower, his scrawling of his Arithmancy work, and his attempts to fall into sleep. He would toss and turn for hours trying to make sense of the thing. Was the date the intended delivery date? It couldn't have been the date written, unless the letter was eighty years old, and it hadn't been very fragile- although, well, magic. But no, it had been written _by_ Hermione Abagnale, not _to _her. What was she playing at?

Eventually, around two in the morning, Severus convinced himself to believe that it was simply some sort of joke on her part (although he'd come to know her sense of humour, and this was far too unentertaining to be something she'd come up with). He slept fitfully.

–

Hermione was delighted to see Severus walking to breakfast only a few yards in front of her and jogged up to greet him. When he turned to say good morning, however, her smile dropped. He looked dreadful, and she told him so quite bluntly.

"I had some trouble getting to sleep last night," Severus said sheepishly, running his hands through his hair repeatedly, roots to ends, causing it to stay wild on its own after a moment. "Had some things on my mind," he added, bowing his head as she reached up to rearrange it to something closer to normal. She waited for him to continue, but apparently he saw no need to elaborate. She wouldn't push it.

"No kidding," she breathed, making a mental note to brew him some pepper-up potion in the dungeons during her free period. Slughorn wouldn't mind: although she was somewhat more reserved than most of his favored students, within the several weeks prior he had apparently seen in her potential and so extended to her certain special privileges, chief among them an allowance to use any unoccupied cauldrons as long as he was present (and, occasionally, even if he wasn't).

"So, er..." Severus seemed to be arguing with himself about saying something. Hermione waited patiently. "I, er..." He took a deep breath. "Did you give any more thought to that article on green lacewings?" He slouched his shoulders, apparently disappointed in himself- even with his height advantage, he was so slumped into himself that his height practically matched hers. Whatever it was he'd been worried about saying, he'd clearly lost steam and decided it wasn't worth it.

"I did," Hermione replied easily, masking her concern over both his lack of sleep and whatever was causing his nervousness. "I thought it was a bit risky, the combination of the lacewings and pixie dung, what with the basic nature of the-"

"Risky, but it paid off. What do I keep telling you?" he ribbed, standing up straighter and nudging her side with his elbow. "Go a little off the book and you can create great things."

She snorted derisively. "Or great explosions." They reached the entrance of the Great Hall and paused. "Well, er, I'll see you in a bit. You have Arithmancy next, right?" After three weeks, she had his schedule nearly memorized, and he nodded an affirmation. "I have Runes." That was on the entirely opposite side of the building.

"I know. I'll see you in Charms, then?" he asked, glancing into the Great Hall as though checking for something- probably Potter & Co., the Marauders, as they called themselves.

"See you then."

–

"What do you like about Severus?" Lily asked bluntly, causing Hermione to practically leap out of the seat she had just settled into. She hadn't spoken much with the redhead since school had begun- she was a little put off, Hermione had gathered, by Hermione's quick and willing affiliation with Severus Snape, with whom she gathered Lily had had a falling out the spring before.

"Erm," Hermione began artfully, "he's very... intelligent? Easy to talk to?" She struggled for another appropriate word: "Clever? Witty?" Suddenly, she snapped out of the conversation. "Why are you asking?" Hermione demanded.

Lily shrugged. "I was just curious if you knew what sort of guy you're getting involved with."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "I do know: Severus is a good guy; he's just not exactly the same as everyone else, which means some people don't like him. And we're not 'involved,' if that implies anything- we're just friends," she added, cheeks blazing.

The redhead's brows rose further yet; they seemed dangerously close to encroaching upon the territory of her hairline. "I just think you should know what, you know, what he did- what he said-"

"I know what he said to you," Hermione said coldly. "It was a mistake, and he acknowledges that. He tried to apologize, and you ignored him."

Lily tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I should've guessed you wouldn't understand, wouldn't appreciate the weight of the word. Hell, you were probably raised taught that it was okay to-"

"How _dare_ you?" Hermione hissed. "For your information, I'm not some sort of Pureblood idealist: I'm a half-blood," she lied (for the sake of her own future safety in this dangerous time), "but my mother died when I was a baby, and I was raised by my father: a Muggle, I'll have you know," she spat.

"Why else would you have some sort of vendetta against me?" Lily demanded.

"Because Severus has told me how you treated him! He may be blind to your bullshit, but I'm not. He called you a- a- that _word_; well, I would've called you worse if I'd been in his place!" Lily's jaw dropped. "Being his friend in private but never bothering to try to help him until your fifth year! Potter''s practically in love with you, you could've spoken to him civilly-"

"Potter," Lily ground out, "never listens to a damn thing I say."

"What about me?" the bully in question called from further down the table. When neither girl gave a response, he hopped up from his seat and strolled over to ask again.

"Go away, Potter," the girls said simultaneously, voices laced with the threat of violence they were as of yet not quite willing to take out on each other, breaking eye contact with each other for the first moment since the argument had begun. He put his hands up in defense and backed away, back to his seat with his friends.

"Suddenly I'm not quite as hungry any more," said Hermione, pushing her empty plate away to make room to gather her bag and books and shooting a glare at Lily. "I'll see you in Ancient Runes," she said coldly.

–

"What was that during breakfast?" Severus asked quietly outside the Charms classroom. He'd been burning to know all through Arithmancy, imagining and reimagining what situation could have possibly given way to their seemingly very harsh exchange of words.

"Nothing," said lied shortly, glancing down the hall at Lily, whose hair he noticed swish violently, a dead giveaway that she had been looking in the pair's general direction.

–

That night, in the Room of Requirement, he knew. Word had spread quickly through the sixth years that Lily Evans and Hermione Abagnale had duked it out during breakfast over Severus Snape; even as ostracized as he was, it was impossible for him _not_ to have heard. He knew that they had, in fact, argued- and viciously. He knew why, for what, wherefore they had fought. She had defended him when even he wouldn't have tried to defend himself.

He wasn't sure if Hermione was aware that he knew. He searched her eyes for something revealing when they spoke, but he found no trace of self-consciousness or regret or embarrassment; instead he found a strange look, a mixture of pride and protectiveness, like a lioness and her cub, he thought, mentally cringing at the crude Gryffindor metaphor. She was so ready to be his friend, so quick to come to his defense with no regard for any possible damage to some "reputation." She had known him for just less than a month and yet was so willing to publicly side with him.

He'd never really had someone legitimately willing to step forward for him like that. Even when Lily had finally snapped and attempted to defend him, it had been out of a sense of duty and due to the fact that she would look distinctly un-Gryffindorish were she not to do so, not because she genuinely wanted to prevent any insult or injury on his part. Hermione, though... she seemed to actually care- to really, actually care.


	4. Kitchen

**A/N: Yay internet for helping me find French boy names that weren't awful. Also, super duper thanks to my wonderful reviewers- I love getting feedback beyond "Please update!" (Not that I mind that kind, necessarily... ;D I just enjoy when you guys tell me what does or doesn't work.)**

_Prompt 4: Kitchen_

Professor Dumbledore had enlightened Hermione regarding her situation: she was screwed. Really she'd already known, deep down; it was just a matter of having it confirmed.

She paced his office without speaking, and he let her have a moment to think. After several minutes of silence, Hermione took a deep breath. "I'll bide my time," she decided, "and then in the early 80s, when research gets going, I'll join in. By the time things really take off," she reasoned, "the technology will have advanced sufficiently that I may be able to reason my way into the greatest miracle in the history of magic."

Dumbledore poured himself a cup of hot tea. "Care for some tea?" She nodded, and he poured cup for her as well. "And now- a toast," he said, raising his teacup to hers with that trademark twinkle in his eye, "to the future!"

–

"What were your friends like at Beauxbatons?" Severus asked one day as they wandered around the lake. He was curious; he'd told Hermione the entire story of Lily and how she broke his heart, of Lucius and how he had seemingly abandoned Severus for this Dark Lord, but she'd never told him much about her friends at home. She bit her lip, hesitant. "You don't have to tell me if that's prying," Severus hastened to add.

"No, it's fine, I just..." she trailed off listlessly. "I haven't been thinking of them." The realization seemed to be hitting her hard- they were only three months into school, and already she'd lost track? He knew her well enough to know that she was tearing herself to bits for not having them on her mind, so he slung an arm around her shoulder to try to distract her.

"Well, you're thinking of them now, no reason to feel bad," he reasoned weakly, trying to keep the tears in her eyes from going any further. "Now, tell me about them. How did you become friends?"__he pushed onwards.

Hermione gave a watery smile. "They saved my life. We were eleven."

Severus's jaw dropped open, but he recovered quickly. "Dramatic, eh?"

"More like traumatic," she said with a barked laugh. "There was this huge troll roaming the halls, and the two of them remembered I'd run off earlier, upset, so they came to find me and get me back to a safe area- and it was in the bathroom with me," she continued, laughing more softly now. "H- Sebastien stuck his wand up its nose, and... Bernard levitated its club and dropped it on itself. Then all these professors came running in, and everyone was rewarded instead of getting in trouble like we _should_ have," she added, rolling her eyes. "Professor Dechesne was furious. In retrospect, it happened a lot."

"Sounds like Hogwarts," Severus muttered vindictively. "The favorites never get in trouble, even when even _they_ agree they should."

"Severus?" Hermione asked softly.

Severus became rather acutely aware that his arm was still around her shoulder as he looked down into her eyes. "Yes?"

"You, er..." she trailed off. "You should be a professor," she finished lamely.

He snorted. "Me?" When she nodded, he snorted again. "Really?"

"Yes!" she cried defensively, pushing his arm off of her so that she could maneuver herself more easily to cross her arms. "You would make a fantastic professor, I bet," she said, nudging him slightly with her elbow. "You wouldn't take any nonsense, and you'd be encouraging students to think past the book!"

Severus rubbed his lips together and popped his jaw as he thought. He'd considered going into teaching- it would be an easy application of a potions mastery- but never _seriously_. The pay would never be enough to convince him to deal with a bunch of snot-nosed little brats once he left this hellhole. And it wouldn't ever have to be! As soon as he graduated, he'd get his mastery and be gone. He could learn independently.

–

It was mid-November, and the entire castle was chilly; even the Room of Requirement was substantially colder than usual. Because of this and the unwillingness of the Room to provide any proper sort of shawl, blanket, or sweater, Hermione and Severus had been sitting close to each other on the small sofa usually taken by the girl alone, basking in each other's body heat. They had been discussing a piece of Muggle literature Hermione had insisted he pick up: the _Great Gatsbsy_, it was called. He had only read the first half yet far, but he had enjoyed it, particularly the very line she had predicted would stick out to him: Nick's internal insistence that he is "not even faintly like a rose."

"So witty," she had insisted sleepily, "it's just like you, really." After only a moment of fighting off her yawns, Hermione succumbed to the will of her body. She promptly placed her copy under her head and set it on his shoulder to use as a pillow, and within moments she had fallen asleep. Severus had noticed her coming to breakfast with more and more prominent bags under her eyes as mid-term exams grew nearer by the day, so rather than waking her and sending her back to her dorm, where she would indubitably insist on studying for "several hours," meaning until three in the morning, before going to sleep, he gingerly removed the rearranged himself so as to become comfortable as her pillow and allow her to sleep for a while longer.

He rotated both himself and his best friend in order to make better use of the space on the sofa; he felt it lengthen to make room for his legs, and his back and legs seemed determined to cause him to will himself to never get up again. He wasn't certain he'd ever felt so comfortable in his life.

What was that smell? Was that her hair? He closed his eyes and let himself experience the smell of her and of the Room, the sound of her breathing, the expansion and shrinking of her ribcage against his side as she breathed in and out, in and out, a rhythmic cycle...

–

Hermione awoke slowly. _Where am I? _She could feel that she was not on her bed, but she was still quite comfortable. Still not opening her eyes, she thought back to the last thing she remembered... she had been in the Room of Requirement, talking to Severus- but he wasn't where he usually was, was he? No, that's right, it had been cold, so they had sat together. And then... then... she'd fallen asleep!

She sat up with a start, and the rather fleshy pillow beneath her gave a cry. In her hurry to sit up, Hermione had slammed her palm into Severus's shoulder. "I'm so sorry!" she breathed, scooting over and helping him to sit up. "Are you okay?" she asked, gingerly patting his shoulder.

"It's fine," he said, laughing at her concern, "you just startled me awake. And I thought you couldn't hurt a fly," he added, narrowing his eyes playfully. Severus then seemed very astonished to find a couch cushion flying towards his head- so astonished, in fact, that he hadn't a quick enough reaction time to duck to avoid it. "You know," he said from his newly acquired position on the floor, "we should really be leaving. I'd wager it's almost curfew."

Hermione swore under her breath before moving to gather her things, and Severus laughed once more.

–

_I'd never seen him laugh before,_ Hermione thought that night in her bed, _and now I'm the one _making _him laugh. Ron and Harry- Bernard and Sebastien,_ she interrupted her own thought with a giggle, _would never believe it. _She herself could hardly believe it.

She also knew that if she went home without any stories of Sirius and Remus, Harry would be upset- he'd obviously know how long she was gone, since with the current plan it would be years before she got back, and her body would have aged. Even if she didn't become as close to them as she was to Severus, she steeled herself to become friends with them. It wasn't as though it would change anything.

No, changing the future was not something Hermione was finding herself at all concerned about. She had had enough experience with Time-Turners in her third year to know that whatever she knew from 1996 had already been affected by her actions in this time. It had already happened- it was how things turned out that terrified her. Why was Severus his hateful self in the future? Why was he so closely affiliated with the dark side? He had been hurt, yes, but with her friendship he seemed to be going in a different direction- what changed that?

She had a hard time falling asleep that night.

–

My mid-December, Hermione had managed to better integrate herself with the Gryffindors of her year. Remus was all too open to her friendly advances- someone who could talk about _books_ and _homework_ and things?! Hermione couldn't help but think rather snarkily to herself that there was no possible way he was getting any sort of real intellectual stimulation from the rest of the Marauders. Of course, thinking it to herself hadn't stopped her from reprimanding Severus when he said it out loud.

"Severus, that isn't nice," she'd said, pursing her lips to try to hide her smile. He'd simply rolled his eyes and laughed off her attempt at diplomacy.

It was due to this newfound friendship that she'd found herself in the library one evening, chatting away with Remus, only to realize that they were missing dinner. When she said so and moved to put her things in her bag, he raised a hand.

"If you'd like," the sandy-haired boy began to suggest, "we could keep talking and just sneak down to the kitchen when we get hungry."

Hermione raised a brow. She'd heard of people doing so- hell, it was how the Weasley twins had catered every party they'd ever thrown- but had never gone down herself. It was a tempting offer. But... the walk to dinner was time she spent with Severus. She bit her lip.

"I promise you, we won't get caught," Remus insisted, misinterpreting her hesitance.

Sure, it was her time with Severus, but she had plenty of that. "Let's do it."

–

Hermione had a wonderful time with Remus. They spoke of House Elf rights- she much more seriously than he- and ate roast beast and sipped pumpkin juice and tea. Despite her initial misgivings- his friendship with someone like James, his potential attitude towards Severus- he was a good guy, and easy to talk to. He was no Severus, but she liked him well enough.

"What do you want to do after school?" he had asked.

She'd shrugged, knowing exactly what she was going to do but aware that most of her peers weren't quite so focused yet. "Something to do with research, I think. I'd love to be in the Department of Mysteries," she'd added wistfully. "And you?"

He, too, had shrugged. "I don't really know; everyone expects me to do something great, but..." he trailed off. "I don't think I'll ever get hired."

"Why?" She pretended to be confused. "You're brilliant, responsible, your OWLs were stellar-"

"I'm always ill," he (half-)lied easily. _Yes_, she thought, _a few days each month._ "Nobody wants an unhealthy, unreliable employee."

"I'm sure you'll find something to do," Hermione had assured him, struck by how similar his attitude towards his condition was to that in later years. He clearly already knew what he would be up against in the real world. Again, she wondered what drove him to the path that she knew- as he had said, people were expecting great things of him. Why did he end up a professor?

Right. Lycanthropy.

**A/N: Did you want her to hang out with Remus? Or did you want her to walk with Severus? I was so torn! I knew what I wanted, but I knew what Hermione wanted... silly, silly Hermione. But hey, if you do dig some more interaction with Remus, you'll be happy to know there's more to come- and I'm super sorry it's taken so long to get there. I just get so caught up in writing about Hermione and Severus and their little interactions that I sometimes forget there's an entire world of characters I need to bring in.**


	5. Holiday

**A/N: Ohh my goodness you guys. My Princeton admissions interview went fantastically. Also I found my big bag of Milky Way Minis. Today is a good day. And you know what would make it better? Reviews! ;D /reviewwhoring Written for the Multi Chapter Boot Camp as well as the "As Strong as we are United" competition over at HPFC.**

_MCBC Prompt 13: Holiday_

_Strong as United Prompts: Gentle, Blue_

"Severus?" Hermione asked tentatively. "What's wrong?" It had been a week since her evening with Remus, and Severus had been distant ever since, avoiding her in the halls and not spending evenings with her in the Room of Requirement. She had finally managed to force him to talk to her by partnering with him in Charms. As they had- of course- finished their work quickly, she had a bit of time to try to get him to speak to her.

"Nothing's wrong," muttered Severus, who apparently found the cuff of his shirt very interesting, as he was looking down and playing with it instead of making eye contact with Hermione.

She murmured a quick _Muffliato _before continuing on. "Clearly _something _is wrong. You've been avoiding me since last week."

"Because you blew me off," Severus hissed. "You didn't even bother to tell me not to go to the Room! I was there, waiting for you, until almost curfew, sitting alone with the _Great Gatsby_ like some kind of jackass!"

Hermione's jaw dropped. "So that's what this is about?" She had entirely forgotten to tell Severus of her plans- how? She leapt out of her seat and hugged him tightly, disregarding the strange looks her action was receiving; he remained limp in her arms even when she whispered, "I am so sorry."

She backed away and sat back down in her seat, disheartened. "I really am sorry," she insisted. "I had no idea- I entirely forgot to tell you. I just, I'm sorry," she finished lamely.

"Of course you forgot," Severus muttered. "Not like it really mattered anyways, right? After all-"

"Hey," Hermione cut him off, "it _did_ matter to me- you matter." At his blank look, she added, "Really. I was just caught up in- with talking with Remus."

Unfortunately, saying that did not appear to have made matters any better.

–

"I was just caught up in-" there Hermione faltered- "with talking with Remus." He had been willing himself not to be hurt, not to allow himself to react- it was clearly an accident, nothing more, nothing less- but hearing her add that to her apologies out loud was like a tiny stab to the back of the neck. He wasn't sure why; he just knew that her forgetting was due to Remus was far worse than if she had forgotten due to a book or simple, well, forgetfulness.

But that wasn't her fault, he told himself. She couldn't have predicted his emotional response; it would have been unreasonable to expect her to do so. She had not intended to betray him, no matter how utterly betrayed he was feeling. He was being completely unreasonable, he reiterated to himself.

By the time he had come to this conclusion, class had been dismissed and Hermione was leaving in a hurry. Rather than chasing her down to apologize, he decided to wait until he next saw her. Surely it wouldn't be long- after all, they were both eating lunch, and she had to leave eventually. He could just wait for her to leave, follow her out, and... apologize.

–

Hermione was near tears stalking the corridor next to that which led to the Great Hall when Remus approached her. "Are you all right?" he asked. She tried to nod, but when she made eye contact, the tears just started flowing. Remus, being a sixteen-year-old boy, seemed entirely unsure of what he was supposed to do and chose to wrap an arm around her shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong?" She shook her head, not wanting to answer. "Is it something to do with school?" Again, she shook her head. Suddenly he stiffened. "Is it to do with Snape?" She froze, not wanting to confirm it, but he knew what her pause meant. "Do you want to go to the kitchens and talk instead of going in there?" he offered.

Not wanting to have to see Severus across the room (or face Lily, who would undoubtedly sniff out the problem as quickly as Remus had and be far from understanding about it), she nodded. He ducked into the Great Hall to let his friends know he was going to be elsewhere, and when he returned, they set off for the kitchens, his arm having returned to its gentle position around her shoulder.

–

Severus was watching the Great Hall entrance for Hermione like a hawk, but even twenty minutes or so after lunch had started, she had failed to appear. To ensure that he hadn't simply missed her in a crowd, he began to search the Gryffindor table for that familiar head of bushy hair. With a heavy heart, he realized that not only was she missing from her table- so was Remus Lupin.

_I should have apologized when I had the chance_.

–

Hermione was sure he meant well, but really, Remus was being incredibly frustrating. "This is just like what happened with Lily," he had told her. "I had a feeling something like this would happen." It was her own bloody fault! She'd been irresponsible. Why was he pretending that this was all due to something Severus had done? Not only was he implying that it was Severus's fault, he was acting as though it didn't matter anyways, as though Severus wasn't worth crying over in the first place.

Beyond his attitude toward her best friend, Hermione was quite peeved that he wouldn't stop flirting with her when she clearly was in no mood whatsoever to be flirted with. Did he really find it _appropriate_ to try to hit on a girl- nay, a young woman- upset over a feud with a friend? Besides, if she was going to flirt with someone, it wasn't going to be him. She'd rather flirt with Severus, honestly.

Hermione was sure he meant well, but really, Remus was not helping one bit.

–

That night, Hermione went to the Room of Requirement. She brought a book to distract her until curfew, uncertain if Severus would bother showing up, but she was far too nervous to read, instead tracing the spine of it- blue with gold lettering- with her fingers. After a half an hour, she was beginning to become disheartened, but then- after forty minutes of waiting- in he walked. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and set down her novel before getting up and going over to hug him tightly. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"No," Severus said, pulling her off of him to hold her at arms' length, "I'm sorry. I've been acting like an arse, and I see that now."

"It was still awful of me to-"

"Just," Severus cut her off, "forget it. We'll pretend it never happened."

And so they did.

–

It was almost curfew when Hermione asked tentatively, "What are you doing for Christmas?"

Severus frowned. He had been planning to go home, but his mother had insisted in a recent letter that he stay for the holidays. Apparently his father had been getting progressively worse since the summer, and she wanted him far away. He wanted _her_ far away, but as usual, she refused to try. "I'm staying here for Christmas," he replied, drawing himself out of his reverie.

"Oh, good!" Hermione said excitedly. "I am, too! We can spend Christmas together!" After a pause, she added- frantically- "I need to go to Hogsmeade and get you a gift!"

"That won't be necessary," Severus said, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to purchase her anything enjoyable with the little spending money he had.

She waved away his protest. "Yes, it is necessary. And if I can't find you anything," she added, "I'll just have to handmake something- I'll transfigure it if necessary." Oh, right. He could transfigure her something! Now the question was _what_ to transfigure... this holiday would be the death of him.

–

Remus Lupin was astonished to see Hermione Abagnale and Severus Snape walking side by side through the hall the next day, quietly discussing Arithmancy work (Snape had the class during a different period than he and Hermione had it). He had been certain that Snape had ruined things for himself once again; Hermione had been so upset! What on earth did she see in that greaseball that she found so appealing that she was willing to put aside his issues?

"I dunno, mate," Sirius said when Remus asked him later over dinner. "She'll come around eventually- you're a great guy, there's no good reason she wouldn't be all over you."

"Shut up, Padfoot," Remus had replied halfheartedly. He didn't want her to be 'all over' him; he just wanted her to be, you know, _interested _in him. It didn't necessarily have to be a physical sort of thing.

"Oh ho!" Sirius chortled. "Is it someone's _time_ of the _month_? And a high five!" James, of course, swooped in to supply him with said high five. Remus sighed before returning to nursing his pumpkin juice. He'd find a way to convince her to give him a chance... eventually.


	6. Every cloud has a silver lining

**A/N: Wow, guys. I'm sorry this took so long- for some reason, I just had some major blockage on this chapter. I guess I just really wasn't feeling like writing Christmas for a while- I knew it would turn out far longer than the other chapters. Anyways, prompts from various challenges added at the end.**

–

"So, what's between you and Snape?" Remus asked, watching Hermione closely for a response over the rim of his glass, hesitant to take his eyes off of her lest he miss a subconscious reaction.

Unfortunately, it seemed that he wouldn't be so lucky; she appeared in complete control of herself, as diplomatic as ever. "Severus and I, as I have told you and your _friends_ in the past," she clarified, glaring pointedly around Remus at Sirius, who raised his hands in defense, "are very good friends. And although I would very much appreciate it if you all would quit harassing him, I suppose it's gotten to the point that I should know that getting you to stop is a pointless endeavor, so instead of asking you to do so, I'm going to instead ask you to pass the berry jam." All of this was said quite quickly and in one breath, and Remus had only begun to wrap his head around her obtuse sentence structure and syntax when she added, somewhat impatiently, "The berry jam, please, Sirius?"

Sirius was still just staring at her, brows drawn together slightly, and made no move to grab the jam to pass to her. "Sirius, look!" Remus cried, pointing past him, down the length of the Gryffindor table. "Someone's levitated a first year!"

That, of course, had Sirius alert in no time. "Who did what in where now?" He was rotating excitedly in his seat, grinning widely, and his actions slowed only very gradually, his smile falling as he began to realize that Remus had been messing with him.

Remus now made a grabbing motion with his hand. "Jam, please." Sirius tossed it to him, now quite clearly pouting. Remus passed it to Hermione, whispering dramatically, "You've got to work hard to properly train a dog like _him, _Miss Granger."

Sirius sniggered sarcastically, and Hermione snorted, understanding the joke far more than Remus or Sirius could have known. "Eloquently put, Mr. Lupin."

–

It was the final Hogsmeade trip before the Christmas break, and Severus had never before realized quite how difficult it could be to shop for a Christmas gift; he told himself that this was because he had never before had the chance and not that he was just inherently bad at gifting things, but it was a tough sell. His first stop had, of course, been the bookstore in Hogsmeade, but he couldn't find anything that satisfied his two very strict conditions: first, it had to be something Hermione would find undeniably interesting, and second, it had to be something he was entirely sure she'd never read. Of course, with such impossible requirements, the mission into the shop was doomed to fail from the beginning, and he was ready to leave after little over an hour of fruitless searching.

Something caught his eye as he headed up to the exit from the back of the shop, though- there was a set of three notebooks. Normally they wouldn't have been enough for him to stop, but they were beautiful, very high quality moleskin books, and he had seen Hermione writing in journals before- several of them, in fact; it appeared that she went through them rather quickly. They were on sale, thank Merlin- the showy display above was probably what had first caught his eye- but only in packages of three. He did a quick bit of mental math and determined that with the fantastic sale, he wouldn't really be spending much more than if he only bought one, and he left the shop with three notebooks, determined to find something to make each of them unique.

–

Hermione had always been a mediocre gift-giver; she knew that. Her gifts to Harry and Ron had consisted largely of study materials when they were younger, and once they were older, things related to Quidditch, the only hobby of theirs of which she was aware. Although this year she was once again playing the hobbies card and going for the obvious, she had a feeling Severus would enjoy this gift far more than Ron and Harry had ever seemed to enjoy theirs.

It was a guide to foreign ingredient use in potions, separated into two halves: the first went over the properties, locations, dangers, etc. of various ingredients, and the second was about employing those ingredients in more common European potions. It was standard reading for many who studied potions further, from what she'd gathered, and even was graced with a beautiful cover: scarlet, with stunningly ornate silver lettering.

She knew it wasn't the most original approach, purchasing him what basically amounted to a Potions textbook, but Hermione hoped he would like it nevertheless. She thought it would at least be an interesting read for him.

–

A day and a half into the Christmas break found Hermione and Severus once again holed up in the Room of Requirement. The Room had supplied for them that day a large, bright pink armchair and a green velvet couch. After a rather loud first half hour, during which Hermione had tried desperately- and failed miserably- to convince Severus to take the pink chair, the two had settled into their usual companionable silence. After reading so many of Hermione's recommendations, Severus had finally picked up the ball and assigned her some wizarding novels, many of which she hadn't even heard of- they were interesting, and she was eager to read them, but she had something that she needed to ask him before she could really settle into her reading.

"Severus," Hermione began tentatively, and his head shot up, eager to hear what she had to say, "why didn't you go home for Christmas?" When he looked down into his book instead of answering the question, she rushed to add, "I don't mean to pry; I just thought it was curious. Your mother seemed to miss you," she finished earnestly.

He stroked the exposed edges of the pages with his thumb, still looking down rather than making eye contact with Hermione. "My parents are on a trip across Europe," he murmured. "My father got a bonus, an- and he wanted to treat her." Severus was stumbling over his words, and although she could tell that his story was a lie, she knew him well enough not to pry: if she pressed the issue further, he would shut down completely.

–

Of course she would realize something was wrong. Just his luck- why did he have to make friends with the bright new exchange student? Why couldn't she have been supremely unintelligent? _Because then we wouldn't be friends,_ he reminded himself, running his thumb down the edges of the pages of his book.Severus thought back to the excuse he'd come up with the night before; he hadn't put in a lot of effort, because he hadn't expected her to ask, but it would have to do now.

"My parents are on a trip across Europe." The first part of the lie was bad enough, but- "My father got a bonus," was truly unbelievable, "an- and he wanted to treat her." Yes, his father was treating her- treating her like a damned House Elf. No, worse! Even House Elves weren't usually subjected to the same sort of abuse as his mother.

Regardless, Hermione couldn't know. Not yet, and maybe not ever. Severus just didn't know how he would be able to face her if she knew what he let his mother go through, if she knew what a coward he was about his father. If she knew what went on in his home, she may not speak to him, and as much as he was loathe to admit dependency on any one person, he _had_ been growing rather... fond of her lately.

Besides, his mother forcing him to stay at Hogwarts only helped him to spend more time with his new friend. _Every cloud has a silver lining,_ he told himself, hissing as he gave himself a small papercut. Hermione leapt up from her armchair and onto the couch to help him heal the tiny wound, and Severus smiled, watching her work over his index finger. He could've pulled away and fixed it himself, but he liked to watch her. For whatever reason, she- Hermione Abagnale, of all the people in the world- cared about him. _Every cloud has a silver lining_.

–

The 24th arrived quickly, and soon it was nearing curfew on Christmas Eve. Hermione yawned, stretching her arms over her head and arching her back, before settling back into the couch and curling her arms around herself. "I wish I had a blanket," she said out loud, hoping the Room would take the hint. Much to her surprise and slight frustration, the Room seemed to obstinately refuse her request.

Severus snapped his book closed and set about placing his things back inside his bookbag. "I'd offer you my cloak," he said, "but I think it would be best for us to get back to our dormitories, and it would be suspicious for you to come in so close to curfew wrapped in some boy's cloak."

Hermione snorted. "They'd know it's yours, and they wouldn't suspect a thing." Then, suddenly- "Who's going to notice if we don't go back?" Severus raised a brow. "You're alone in your dorm, I'm alone in mine. If we stayed here overnight, it isn't like anyone would really _know_." When he still wasn't convinced to agree to the idea, she continued, "We could exchange gifts first thing in the morning if we go and get them now." Here she grinned overly widely, knowing that, despite his serious exterior, silly faces really did win him over. (It was something she wished she'd known for the first five years that she'd known him.)

Now he sighed deeply. _Wonderful!_ This was the part where he pretended that she had had a terrible idea and that there was no way any sane person would rightfully go along with it, and that he was just indulging her nonsensical ways by agreeing. "I suppose."

–

It was far past midnight now, and the pair was well into Christmas Day. They had been drinking hot cocoa for hours, and Hermione wasn't sure she'd ever be able to go to sleep. The two were now sitting cross-legged on the couch, facing each other, heads leaned on the back of the couch, sipping cocoa to keep from falling asleep whilst playing the Question Game.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Yellow," Severus deadpanned. "Like the sunshine? Oh, fine, it's indigo," he admitted, drinking deeply from his mug (the pair of which Hermione was quite certain the House Elves had bewitched to automatically refill). "And yours?"

"Gray," Hermione murmured. "It has so many shades."

The corner of Severus's lips twitched. "_Least_ favorite place you've ever been?" His last question had been about her _most_ favorite place, and she had made fun of him- Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Myrtle's bathroom," Hermione said, shivering slightly. "The entrance to the-" here her reply became heavily distorted by a yawn- "Chamber of Secrets." It was worse than the hole in the floor in her first year, it was worse than the Shrieking Shack, and it was worse than the Department of Mysteries. She had a feeling that it was because of how innocuous the bathroom had always seemed; there was a feeling of being deceived, whereas with the other places, she had known heading in that she was supposed to have been terrified.

"The Chamber of what?" Severus asked, confused.

Hermione's face reddened, and she quickly realized her mistake. _I need to go to sleep._ Things like that didn't need to come slipping out. "The nothing," she lied. "What's yours?"

–

Severus would have interrogated Hermione further about this Chamber nonsense, but by the time that he had formed both his initial question and several responses to her likely defenses, she was asleep, and he was well on his way. Funny, it was only once she'd fallen asleep that the Room had supplied her with a blanket- and even then, it was slightly askew. He reached over to adjust it, ensuring that it would actually keep her warm through the night, and he was rewarded with a blanket of his own.

"This damned room..." It never ceased to amaze him, the strange decisions it could make. Without further ado, he slipped under his new blanket and, basking in the shared warmth of their almost-touching bodies, fell easily into a deep sleep.

–

When Severus awoke the next morning, Hermione's angle had changed slightly, and her arm was resting on his, her hand gripping his wrist limply. He snorted gently, attempting to work his hand out from under hers without waking her. "Professor..." Hermione murmured, and he raised a brow at his sleeping friend, not sure what direction her dream was taking her or whether he wanted to hear the rest of it. "Professor Snape, I..."

He jumped then. Severus had thought that she had been kidding that day, about him becoming a professor someday- apparently not, if the idea was permeating her very _dreams_. His sudden movement woke her, and, sitting up, she quickly drew her hand up to her face to push her hair out of the way of her eyes. "Sorry, Severus," she said through her yawns, "I didn't mean to make you wait for your gifts."

Laughing, Severus replied, "I just woke up, actually. You sound eager to exchange presents."

"And you aren't?" Hermione asked, elbowing him lightheartedly. "You like Christmas deep down, and I know it," she goaded.

After a quick breakfast, it was finally time to exchange their gifts. Hermione pulled his present from her bag, and Severus winced. It was so neatly wrapped- every angle was sharp, the creases were fine, and the bow was pristine. She snorted slightly at his expression. "Don't feel bad; that was one of the spells I was most excited about first year, so I practiced it about a hundred times one night."

Now he rolled his eyes, feeling better, and presented her with _her_ gift. "Ladies first, madame," he said, making sure to embellish the overly formal tone with a deep bow once she took it from his hands. Rather than just opening the damn thing- which was terribly wrapped in an old copy of the _Daily Prophet_, the bow but a hair ribbon she had lost ages before that he had found in the bottom of his bag, affixed with a basic Sticking Charm- she examined it from all angles, weighed it in her hands, and even shook it slightly before he interrupted her examination: "Are you a small child?"

Blushing, she set the box on her lap and gingerly unwrapped it, smiling brightly when she realized the method he'd used to make the bow and biting her lip as she tore the wrappings with as little excess energy used as possible, her finger slicing down the side of it more slowly than Severus had thought possible. After a minute and a half, he grabbed the box from her, ripped the paper off of it, and set it back forcefully in her lap. She made a slight face, but didn't reprimand him. The lid came off quickly, and her jaw dropped when she saw the journals.

"They're beautiful," she murmured, tracing fingertips down the cover of the top of the three.

"They're not just beautiful," Severus said excitedly, raising a finger to draw her attention. "They're very special!" She smiled widely; his enthusiasm for the journals was apparently contagious. "This first one," he said, gently handing her the blank book in question, "is enchanted to open for no one but you- it's connected to your magical signature, not your voice or fingerprints, so there's no way anyone could get into it unless they forced _you_ to open it for them, not even Polyjuice would work- and I've yet to see anyone force you to do something you didn't want to," he added, smirking slightly. "This second one," he began, cutting off her attempts at thanks, "is for me." Her brows drew together slightly, and his smirk grew. "That's because the third-" here he handed her the final journal- "is yours. These two are connected- any time you write something in one, it shows up in the other."

Hermione seemed incapable of speech for a moment, and he let her recover. "That's- Severus, these are fantastic." He couldn't help but beam- he was just so damn happy that she liked them. He'd never gotten a gift so right before.

–

"That's- Severus, these are fantastic." Hermione knew that he had intended to use them to communicate after curfew (say, to let each other know that they had made it back to their respective dormitories without trouble or to remind each other of assignments), but she was having an interesting thought... if- no, _when,_ she insisted to herself- she returned to her own time, she could alert him to the fact with the journal! Then, if she were in a bad place, he would know, and he could help her.

But he was so mean, so bitter in the future. He may not be willing to help her at all. Hermione frowned into the journal, only drawn out of her reverie when she heard Severus- Severus, not Professor Snape- ask her (in a tone implying that it was not the first time he was asking), "What's wrong?"

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. That was something to put in her private journal and most certainly not something to share with Severus. Putting on a (genuine, now that she was focused on the present- well, er, past? No, present) smile and pulling the box from beside the couch, she said, "Nothing's wrong; I was just thinking. Now take your gift!"

He opened it methodically, not incredibly quickly but not nearly as slowly as Hermione had approached hers. When he read the title, he popped his head up and grinned widely over to her. She was ready to faint- knowing Professor Snape had smiled as a youth was a trippy enough experience; she almost couldn't wrap her head around the fact that this was him, that her Severus was Professor Snape. She forgot sometimes, and then he would smirk or sneer or roll his eyes and she would see it clearly.

But... even if he was doomed to become the Professor Snape, even if he was doomed to be so awful, so mean that she would cry... she couldn't help but be his friend. Keeping herself from interacting with him, subjecting herself to friendships with only her Housemates, would be on par with torture.

–

_Multi Chap Boot Camp Prompt 24: Every cloud has a silver lining_

_52 Weeks Prompts (Compulsory): Abuse, Money_

_52 Weeks Prompts (Optional): Torture_

_52 Weeks Prompts (Bonus): 'Who did what in where now?'_


	7. Distraction

**A/N: So I took a break. And now I'm back. For a minute, at least. This update is here thanks solely to **_**Belle2611**_**, who gets a shoutout here for being a marvelous person and messaging me asking about the story. Before Belle's question, I didn't even think people were still excited about or even vaguely interested in this story. So, yeah.**

–

_So has Lupin dragged you away to ask you out for Valentine's Day yet? _

At this point, Hermione didn't even bother refraining from rolling her eyes at the notebook. The closer they drew to the fourteenth of February (and they weren't even so close as for the remarks to be reasonable; it was still only the middle of January), the more intent Severus seemed on making snide comments about her reluctant friendship with the werewolf – _ahem, _completely physiologically normal young man, she reminded herself. He'd been acting up since the first day back from break; it was a blunt return to everyday life.

No, it was worse than a simple return. His commentary had escalated to an entirely new level! Bits of alone time which would normally have been filled with brief discussions of a shared reading or a "just plausible" idea one or the other had had were now apparently just temporal venues for any snarky remarks Severus had managed to come up with in the class before.

If only it were limited to between classes, Hermione lamented. _No, he had to go and get me the stupid journal. _She shook her head at the notebook whilst dipping her quill into the inkpot on her desk and attempting to focus on Binns's monotonous drivel on the Summer of Tears (he was really approaching the subject all wrong anyways- if he would just look at it from the centaurs' point of view rather than that of the warlocks, the reason for the conflict would become much more interesting to dissect). _I bet the bastard _planned _to use these for his rants. _They usually weren't so bad, though. It was like they came in phases. _I wonder if he's PMSing._

From the next seat over, Frank Longbottom looked over to her, startled, when she seemingly gave a small chuckle at the beheading of Koren the Valiant.

—

_So has Lupin dragged you away to ask you out for Valentine's Day yet?_

When he received no response even five minutes later, Severus knew that all of his prodding and prying had finally upset her. He scribbled several loops, zig-zags and straight lines through it, attempting to make it clear he wasn't going to go down that path any more.

_Do you have any plans for that day? _A quick line through that. It sounded like he was asking her on a date himself. _I'm only curious as to your plans for the day. _It still looked vaguely as though he were trying to ask her out (as though he were nervous about it and trying to be subtle, much to his chagrin – Severus silently thanked Merlin that Lupin himself couldn't see it, or he'd have a field day), but it would do.

He couldn't help but give a slight smile when her handwriting, as neat and uniform as a type-writer fitted with handwritten letters, flowed easily across the page. _**I have no plans thus far. Do you? **_Upon reading what was actually written, he rolled his eyes.

_Surely you jest._

_**Of course. **_Although to an outsider it would have seemed meanly blunt, Severus didn't mind, recognizing it for the carefree banter it was. Not to mention, of course, that it was _exactly_ as obvious as she made it seem.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over Severus's desk, and he slammed the notebook shut as he glanced up. The professor had walked out, giving the class a spot of free time, and the man- _ahem,_ boy- of the hour, Remus Lupin himself, stood over him, quirking an eyebrow up in exactly the sort of way that Severus would have bet several Galleons Hermione would swoon over. "Writing in your diary? Hermione has the same one."

"It's a journal of sorts," Severus replied icily. "I got her one for Christmas; I'm glad to hear she uses it regularly enough for you to have noticed."

Remus forced a smile. "And, er, speaking of Hermione-" oh, Merlin, no- "I was just wondering if you could, er, give me some advice."

Severus tried his hardest to pretend that he didn't know what on earth Remus could be talking about. "Advice of what sort?"

Now Remus was fidgeting- no, squirming- under Severus's stare. "I was planning on asking her out for the Valentine's Hosmeade trip, and, well- you aren't taking her, are you?" Remus asked, suddenly remmebering to be suspicious. At Severus's eyebrow raise and dismissive shake of the head, the other boy continued, more confident now. "Right, of course." It was only banter when Hermione said it; when this arse said it… "Well, I was just wondering if you happened to have any advice for me regarding asking her or what to do. She spends more time with you than with anyone else," Remus reasoned. "Surely you know something that could be of use."

—

Hermione found herself looking down at her linked journal more frequently than her journal for note-taking as the class went on. Severus generally found some witty reply within a few minutes (faster if he wasn't taking notes), but it was nearing the end of the period and he still hadn't replied. As much as she hated it when he made so many comments about Remus, she preferred it to his silence. Words let her peer right into his mind; without them, she wasn't sure she could interpret him, particularly through a blank notebook. She'd have to ask him about it after class— they did have lunch next.

—

Severus gave a large sigh, and Remus frowned, beginning to turn away. "Carnations," Severus mumbled.

Not three days before, Hermione had gone on her now-familiar rant on the inherent uselessness of most "precious" gems, and slowly it had turned into a rant against most modern declarations of love and romance.

"Like roses!" Hermione had cried, thrusting her hands above her in a display of frustration. "Just because there's a historical basis, people think there's no other option than a giant gaudy bouquet of pink roses!"

"Aren't they usually red?"

Hermione, whom he had only realized a day later had never dated anyone who knew remotely what he was doing when it came to the art of courtship, waved him off, continuing. "It isn't even the roses themselves, it's the sheer number of them! It's like they aren't displaying any sort of genuine feeling; they're just engaged in some ridiculous dick-measuring contest," she spat, "and the winner is whoever gives his- _his_, like they possess them- girl the most flowers! I'd rather get a single carnation," she huffed, "than an entire shop's worth of roses, red _or_ pink. Carnations are underrated."

Severus was loathe to pass this information on to Remus, but if he told the fool to bring her a bouquet of roses, Hermione would doubtlessly know exactly had led the boy astray, and she would be furious.

"I'm sorry?" Remus said.

Severus coughed slightly, clearing his throat. "She likes carnations."

Remus breathed out in relief at having gotten his advice. "Thanks, Snape. You're a lifesaver." He turned to return to his seat, but after a few steps, stopped and said over his shoulder, "You really aren't that bad. Sirius said you wouldn't even bother helping." Were Severus a more cynical type ("_Is that even possible?" _he heard Hermione ask inside his head), he would've told Remus to hold off on saying that until after he'd given her the carnations.

—

"Do you ever think about how we're still just kids?" Hermione mused. "All these thoughts and hopes and dreams don't make us any more than what we, developmentally and biologically, are: children." Silence. "We think we can fight, and maybe we can- maybe we do have the ability- but does that make us ready? Can we handle what we want to?" Still silence. "Hello?"

"I can honestly say," Sirius drawled over a bottle of butterbeer, "that I have never once pondered that." He took a swig before continuing. "I can also say that you are really wrecking the vibe of this party."

"Leave her alone," Remus said, elbowing Sirius in the chest playfully. "Just because someone here wants to do something other than dance and get laid doesn't mean you have to judge them for it." Sirius rolled his eyes, but quirked a grin nonetheless. His feelings weren't hurt. "Hermione, want to get out of here?" When Hermione gave no response other than fidgeting with her necklace, he continued, "We could go to the kitchens, perhaps have a bit of dessert."

"All right, that sounds nice," she replied, nodding slowly. "I'll see you later, Sirius." Hermione nodded a goodbye to the boy and he saluted her in return. Laughing gently and shaking her head, she made her way out of the Gryffindor common room just behind Remus, who, upon noticing her lagging behind, grabbed her hand (softly, at least), and guided her through the crowd to the exit portrait.

The overbearing noises of laughter and thrilling conversations about boys, girls, and Quidditch were shut out completely when the portrait swung closed behind them. "Shall we?" Remus asked, still not letting go of Hermione's hand.

She sighed, glad to be out of the hustle and bustle of the party even if slightly reluctant to be so firmly in the grasp of Remus Lupin. "_Allons-y._" A furrowed brow was all she got in response, and she gave a small smile to make the best of it. "Let's go."

—

"Oh, shite!" Remus cried as they were about to leave the kitchens. "I completely forgot! Kittles!" The House-Elf dutifuly popped into space at Remus's side, looking not nearly as confused as Hermione was. "Kittles, do you have what I forgot?"

"Yes, Master Lupin," Kittles replied, nodding vehemently. "Kittles has what Master needs. Kittles will be right back!" With that, Kittles popped right back out of existence. When Hermione opened her mouth to ask what it was he'd forgotten, Remus winked and shushed her with a finger to his lips.

"You'll see- you knowing will take the fun out of it. Ah, hello again, Kittles! Have you got it?"

Nodding even more enthusiastically now (so enthusiastically, indeed, that Hermione was fearful that the poor thing's head may fly off), Kittles pulled his hands from behind his back and gave Remus a bouquet of carnations_. _Pink ones, a whole huge bouquet. _Carnations._ Head swimming slightly, she thought to herself, _Severus is one hell of a friend._ She'd have to thank him later for clearly playing well with others.

"Hermione?"

"Sorry, there was a- a distraction. The flowers are lovely, Remus, really." And they were. Knowing what a length Remus had gone to- for asking Severus for help was a pain if he liked you, much less if you had the sort of relationship with him that Remus did- to ensure that she would like what he gave her made her slightly more accepting of his advances. He seemed more attractive now, sweeter. "Thank you."

"The vase is made to maximise their water intake," he said excitedly, gesturing wildly as he explained the mechanisms and spells that went into its making. For a Marauder, he was very sweet; maybe Hermione had had the group all wrong. Maybe she'd only seen one side of those boys. "But, er, there was something more important I wanted to talk about than the vase. Sorry for rambling," he apologized sheepishly. She simply laughed, and he continued, enheartened once again. "I was wondering…"

"Yes?"

"Well, I was just wondering- wondering if you'd go to Hogsmeade with me for Valentine's Day." Hermione's eyes closed, but Remus seemed not to notice, so caught up was he in his rambles. "We could go get some tea, or butterbeer if you'd like, perhaps go dancing, have dinner before we have to go back to the castle…"

_Severus was right. Why is Severus always right? _She wasn't particularly against the idea of going with Remus to Hogsmeade at this point; she was just disappointed that she had fought Severus so hard on the possibility of this only for it to happen the minute she and Remus were alone. Oh, well. What the hell?

"That sounds wonderful, Remus. Absolutely wonderful."

—

_Multi Chap Boot Camp Prompt 50: Distraction_


	8. A meeting place

A/N: I write this surrounded by a half dozen younger siblings. Bear with me.

–

Hermione always had a book with her at supper, usually whatever she and Severus were reading together; this evening was no different from every other before it. The night's read was a lightly fictionalized (the author called it "enhanced," which made him about seventy times as honest as Gilderoy Lockhart, Hermione had thought to herself with a grin when she first picked it up) autobiography detailing a young charms apprentice's journey of self-discovery, both academic (which she felt was truthful) and romantic (which she felt may have been slightly exaggerated- Hermione herself was far from enough of a fool to believe whole-heartedly that the stocky young man would have women falling at his feet in the manner he described).

Regardless of content, this book was the reason Hermione never saw Lily Evans approaching her and didn't have time to scare her off with a glare or raised eyebrows. She didn't notice the redhead until it was too late- Lily was coughing quietly to get her attention.

Hermione's head snapped up from her book, and without turning to make eye contact with Lily, she blurted, "What, Evans?"

"I heard you're going with Remus for Valentine's Day." Although she was still not looking at the girl, Hermione knew that, at this moment, Lily was either looking down at her nails pretending to be disinterested or staring at her, lips pursed and eyebrows raised. She was entirely too irritating for Hermione to ever want to deal with, but there they were.

"Yes, Evans." Hermione was still obstinately refusing to turn to make eye contact with Lily, despite the girl's repeated small cough. "Why does this concern you?"

"I'd just hate to see Remus get hurt," Lily drawled, either not noticing or ignoring Hermione's eye roll. "I don't want him to get involved with the wrong sort of girl, you know."

Hermione nearly gave herself whiplash, she turned her head to glare at Lily so quickly. "_Am_ I the wrong sort of girl, Evans?" As predicted, Lily was staring down at her own nails. "I may not be some pretty little twit with perfect cuticles," Hermione growled, "but at least I have the heart to stay friends with someone instead of quitting the moment it gets tricky. I know things about Remus," she continued, her voice even lower now, "that would make someone like you run away screaming her head off. And no amount of your mucking around in other people's business will prevent me from going to Hogsmeade with Remus," she finished with her voice back to a normal level.

Lily gave a small "_Hmph!_" before standing and walking to her own spot of the table, nestled in with her girlfriends near the Maruaders themselves. If Remus (or any of the other Marauders) had heard their conversation, they were giving no signs of it. Indeed, they seemed completely caught up in their own; undoubtedly they were planning some ridiculous new prank or other. They were the Weasley twins without the business savvy, Hermione thought wickedly.

—

Further down the table, however, the Marauders were not discussing their latest plan to drive their professors utterly mad. No, the four were reviewing the near-catfight they had just witnessed. Despite Hermione's expectations (and hopes), they knew exactly what was said. It wasn't by pure happenstance, of course; no, the boys had _planned_ the whole ordeal. It was all James's idea, really.

"I'm telling you," he'd said that afternoon at lunch, "it's foolproof. Who does Hermione hate more than anyone?"

"Sirius?" Sirius had asked, prompting a reluctant chuckle from Remus.

"No, no," James had said, waving his friend's answer off. "More than you!"

"Lily," Remus had admitted quietly, folding his arms across his chest. It wasn't something he was looking forward to dealing with, but if that was what having a relationship with Hermione meant, he was ready to do it. She was wickedly funny, pretty enough, and smart as a whip- everything he could ever want in a woman. He intended to keep her around, and by Merlin, if he had to, he'd—

"So if we want her to do something, namely, not back out of a date with you…" James had led Remus.

"Get Lily to tell her not to do it," Remus had agreed with a grimace. It made the perfect amount of sense, but it felt so dirty and manipulative— more Slytherin than his Gryffindor sensibilities were comfortable with. But then again, she hung around Snape all the time, and he was a snake. "All right, let's do it."

Getting Lily to do her part had been easy enough. All they had to do was let slip that Remus had asked her out to Hogsmeade for Valentine's Day, and the rest she did of her own accord. James had known she'd have Remus's "best interests" at heart. (Remus had known Lily would do anything to rob Hermione of some small potential piece of happiness… in addition to protecting him.)

—

"So you're really going to get involved with Lupin?" Severus asked for what seemed the millionth time that day. He had to be sure, had to make certain to himself that she wasn't kidding.

"It's just a date, Severus," Hermione replied, just as she had when he'd asked outside breakfast before… and after, as well as before lunch, after their third class, and both before and directly after dinner. He had now found her in the library studying for a Potions test (why she felt the need to study, he'd never know; she was certainly already well-versed in the material) and felt the need to check in again. What did she see in him? "Besides, that chit Evans doesn't want me to go, so I have to. I won't give her the satisfaction of thinking she scared me off him." Oh, right. _That_.

Despite the fact that the girls' rows were commonplace— practically regularly scheduled once a week; there was always some sort of bad blood between the two of them— the school never failed to light up over them. For some reason, the idea of Lily Evans and Hermione Granger having it out enthralled many of the older students, of all houses. Severus had a feeling that many of the males enjoyed it for the way the two looked when they got all riled up (something that he, as a teenaged young man, would admit to himself— and no one else— he had not failed to notice himself), while a large number of the females just loved the drama. Not all of the girls, mind you, but a fair amount. In any case, the (elder half of the) school's obsession had once again let even Severus in on the fact that there had been yet another argument. He didn't know the details (the gossip train rarely held those, and when it did, they were never quite accurate), but he wasn't exactly about to ask Hermione to tell him all about it. He'd just have to live with himself not knowing.

—

"Miss Abagnale," Professor McGonagall called from the front of the room near the end of class, "please come here." There was a soft _ooh_ around the room as though she were in trouble. It was cut off quickly by McGonagall's drawn brows and slight frown away from the girl and towards the class in general. "Professor Dumbledore wished to see you once I was through with you," she said quietly. "You may go now, if you wish."

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione replied, nodding obediently. Some things had been easier to get used to than others when it came to being a student in the past, and one of those was definitely obeying and respecting Minerva McGonagall. Although in the beginning she had been slightly wary of Hermione (a new student already so far into a certain method of education— who knew what she could be accustomed to in terms of discipline?!), between her eager disassociation from the Marauders, in McGonagall's classroom at least, her easy friendship with the bullied young potions genius, and the near-perfection of both her schoolwork and her disciplinary record, the professor had eventually grown quite fond of the girl… or, if not quite fond, at least rather approving.

Hermione quickly and quietly gathered her things before making her way out of the room. Sirius made a face of horror at her, and once she'd double-checked that McGonagall was looking down at her desk, Hermione flashed him the bird. Sirius simply chuckled silently, and Remus gave her a half-hearted wave and a small smile. She smiled back at Remus before hurrying out. What on earth could Dumbledore want with her? By the time she reached his office, her mind was racing— had he discovered a way home for her? Would she take it? She paused. Would… would she want to go home? She missed Harry and Ron and everyone else terribly, of course, but she was making a new home here.

She told herself to push it to the back of her mind until she knew whether or not that decision was even on the table and instead focused on the problem immediately at hand: the gargoyle. McGonagall had failed to give her a password, and Hermione had very little idea what it could be. "Erm… licorice?" The gargoyle remained stone-faced, for lack of a better term. "Lemon drops!" Nothing. "Oh, for Merlin's sake… chocolate eggs?" The gargoyle gave her a slight nod and moved aside. Up the familiar stairs she went, up and up and up until she found herself face to face with the door to Dumbledore's office.

Before she could even lift her arm to knock on the large wooden door leading in, the Headmaster called out, "Come in, Miss Abagnale." For the first time in months, she shuddered at being called Abagnale rather than Granger. The name Abagnale had become such a fixture in who she was: Sirius would tell her what a silly maiden name it was and how he should really take his surname, Severus would playfully (well, as playfully as that boy could really get) call her by her full name when she got herself into "trouble" with him, and every professor in this time addressed her as such. It was only when Dumbledore said the word that she got shivers and felt it wasn't quite right. In she stepped nevertheless.

"Miss Abagnale," he began, ignoring her slight twitch of the eye, "I have a proposition for you."

She waited for him to continue, but after a moment of silence it became clear he was looking for some sort of sign from her to go on. "Proposition, sir?"

"I recall that in your time, you were involved with a student-led resistance of sorts," Dumbledore said, peering over his glasses in that trademark manner of his.

Hermione blushed slightly. "Well, sir, that wasn't really— I mean, it was— it was sort of an illegal study group, you know. It was only a resistance against a specific—"

"Against a specific Ministry policy, under the nose of the official charged with enforcing it," Dumbledore finished for her. He continued with a slight smile. "Whether you wish to admit it or not, Miss Abagnale, that does constitute experience with a resistance group… of sorts," he qualified, if only to appease her, as her mouth had flown open once again.

Hermione was struggling to understand how this was at all relevant to anything he could be proposing to her. "What does this have to do with your proposition, Professor?"

"Ah, yes!" Dumbledore clasped his hands together, clearly excited by whatever it was he had in store for her. "I understand you are seventeen years of age, yes?" At her slight (and confused) nod, he continued. "What do you know of the Order of the Phoenix?" Hermione's jaw dropped, her mouth forming a small "o". She could be a member of _the_ group that fought— would fight— Lord Voldemort. "From your reaction, I assume you know their purpose." All Hermione could do was nod, mouth still wide open. "As you satisfy the age requirement— you have since September, yes?—" This time he didn't even wait for her to nod a confirmation— "it would be no problem for you to begin your training. This is not simply because you are from another time, Miss Abagnale," he said seriously, leaning in over his desk to make eye contact with her. "I am aware you can change nothing. I genuinely believe you to be a valuable asset to our cause: you are a brilliant young woman armed with a veritable arsenal of spells." At her slight blush, he smiled. "Yes, your Professors have been bragging about you. Your little 'illegal study group,' as it were, has clearly served you well. What say you? Are you willing to serve in the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Yes," Hermione said, having come out of her trance at last. "Absolutely, of course."

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Dumbledore. "All we need is a safe meeting place for you and Alastor Moody to—"

"Moody?" Hermione suddenly felt ready to faint.

—

_Multi-Chap Boot Camp Prompt 32: A meeting place_


End file.
